


The Best Laid Plans

by doctorhelena



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Steggy Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: If she’d had any idea Steve was alive, Peggy would have gone about this rather differently.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 66
Kudos: 234





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spaceshipdear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceshipdear/gifts).



> This is a Steggy Secret Santa gift for the fabulous [founderofshield](http://founderofshield.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr (aka [spaceshipdear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceshipdear/pseuds/spaceshipdear) here on A03). Happy New Year!

_October 5, 1946  
_ _Peggy Carter and Angie Martinelli’s apartment, New York City_

Howard called, very early in the morning, on Peggy’s first Saturday off in over a month. “Listen, Peg,” he said, urgently. “I know how to find the Valkyrie.”

Peggy closed her eyes. “Howard, you’re drunk. Go to bed.”

“No, I’m serious!” he insisted. “I did go to bed. Had a brainwave.” 

“Right,” said Peggy. “Well, why don’t you see if things still seem so clear later on, once you’ve had a nice rest?” She set down the receiver firmly, and rolled onto her back, staring up at the dark ceiling.

Howard, with his insistence on locating the wreckage of Steve’s final stand against Schmidt, was very much not helping in her attempts to move on with her life. It had been well over a year - going on two, almost - and even if Steve had somehow survived the initial crash, by now it was fairly clear to everyone that he wasn’t coming back. Peggy had said her goodbyes last spring, poured the last vial of his blood carefully into the water, and if she still dreamed of him far more frequently than she should, well, that was her own cross to bear, she supposed.

It was far too early to get up, but thanks to Howard she was wide awake. She considered going to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, but she could hear Angie moving about the flat, probably wakened by the phone ringing on the extension in her own room, and Angie was far too good at noticing when something was wrong. And, as lovely as it was to have Angie for a friend, Peggy did not want to talk about this.

She rolled over, readjusted her pillow, and let out a quiet breath. Maybe - maybe, if Howard really did manage to bring home Steve’s body, maybe she’d start to truly believe he was gone.

\-----

Howard was serious this time, as it turned out. He’d worked out a way to track the Valkyrie using the traces of Tesseract energy that would have contaminated the metal of the fuselage, and when test after test on spent Hydra weapons proved that his method worked reliably within a 300 mile radius, Peggy realized two things.

One was that Howard had just invented a foolproof, although tedious, way to track down any remaining Hydra weaponry. If the SSR was smart, she argued, they’d immediately dispatch teams to the areas of any known or suspected Hydra weapons caches. At the very least, every field team should be equipped with a detector, to warn them if they were going to be unexpectedly dealing with deadly blue flames.

The SSR, however, was rather preoccupied with the other of Peggy’s realizations: that Howard was really going to find Captain America’s body, and if it was anywhere near where he’d found the Tesseract, he was going to find it relatively soon.

As the departure date of his expedition grew closer, Peggy grew more and more uneasy, spending night after night reliving the memory of Howard manipulating her into stealing the last vial of Steve’s blood. And Howard, at least, had known Steve, had meant to use the serum for good, albeit at a profit. The American government, obsessed with the growing Russian threat, would extract the secrets of the serum to create not Howard’s hoped-for vaccines and medicines, but another supersoldier, an army of them.

The serum amplified qualities that were already there, and Dr. Erskine had chosen Steve for Project Rebirth precisely because he was a good man. It would be very difficult to find an army of candidates as good as Steve had been, and frankly, she suspected nobody would try. 

Finally, after Angie had threatened to tie her to a kitchen chair, shine a light in her eyes, and interrogate her until she coughed up some kind of clue as to what was bothering her, Peggy came to a decision.

\-----

 _November 1, 1946  
_ _Stark Industries Headquarters, New York City_

“Howard, we need to talk.”

Howard looked up from his lab bench, slightly wary. “Shoot.”

Peggy sat down beside him. “Howard, despite how furious I was with you at the time, I do understand that you weren’t entirely motivated by profit when you wanted to be the one to experiment on the last vial of Steve’s blood.” She could see Howard changing gears in his brain, from the search for the Valkyrie to a discussion about what might happen afterwards. She watched him steadily. “But when you bring - when you bring - ” she choked a little on the words.

“When I bring his body back,” Howard finished, surprisingly gently.

“Yes.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “Howard, I know you think you can do great things with the serum, but you’ve said it yourself, when you have an idea you can’t help but follow it through, no matter how terrible it is. You were nearly hung for treason because of it, and it doesn’t seem to have stopped you.”

He shot her a sheepish grin. “Well, that’s what I need you for, Peg. You keep me honest.”

“I wish you would bloody learn to keep yourself honest.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “At least you knew Steve. He liked and trusted you. And I suppose you do occasionally listen to me. But believe it or not, you’re actually the least of my worries here.”

Howard frowned. “Peg, you know Steve wanted - he wanted to do good in the world. That was why he volunteered for the whole crazy experiment in the first place.”

“Yes,” Peggy said, “He wanted to do good. He would, I think, have been horrified to imagine posthumous samples of Dr. Erskine’s serum ending up in the hands of people even less ethical than you are.”

“Hey!” protested Howard.

Peggy leaned forward. “Howard, you know the serum amplifies everything, good and bad. Do you really think everybody who experiments with it is going to take the same care that Dr. Erskine did in choosing suitable candidates? How many Red Skulls are too many, do you think?” Her voice was somewhat sharper than she’d intended, but Howard just looked at her, thoughtfully, and to his credit, she could tell he was actually thinking about it.

“You’re right,” he said after a long moment. “I wouldn’t want someone like Zola getting his hands on it, on our side now or not.”

Peggy nodded. “Yes. I’ve made my feelings about Operation Paperclip quite clear, but nobody particularly cares to listen to my opinion these days.”

Howard looked thoughtful again, then nodded. “Okay. I see your point.” He blew out a puff of air. “But I’m not sure what you want me to do about it. It’s a bit too late to pretend we don’t know where the Valkyrie is, and we can’t leave him there now or the Russians will get him and do exactly what you don’t want us doing.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m not asking you to do anything. I just - ” she looked down at her hands, then back up at him. “I just want you to understand why I’m going to do what I’m going to do.”

Howard raised his eyebrows. “You need help stealing his body? All you have to do is ask, pal.”

Peggy smiled faintly at that. “Thank you, Howard. You’re a good friend. But I hope it won’t come to that.” She reached into her bag and extracted a piece of paper, handing it to Howard. “I’m going to try something else first.”

Howard glanced at the paper, then stared at her. “Holy shit, Carter.”

\--------

 _November 4, 1946  
_ _SSR Headquarters, Washington DC_

“I know why you’re here.” Colonel Phillips waved at his secretary to close the door behind her as she retreated back to the outer office after showing Peggy in. “And the answer is no.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “What was the question?”

Phillips sighed. “Look, Carter, I know as well as you do that you’re wasted in that New York office. I’ve got something in the works, but I need you to hang tight for now. Try to stay out of trouble.” 

“That isn’t - ” she began, but he held up a hand.

“And I can’t send you on Stark’s expedition.” He regarded her steadily, but not without sympathy. “I’ll get you in to say your goodbyes once they get him back to the States.”

Peggy took a deep breath. “That isn’t why I’m here.” She reached into her bag and handed him the well-thumbed paper. Phillips took it, then looked at her, startled.

Peggy gazed back steadily. "Captain Rogers’ cause of death is not in any way a mystery, and I am going to fight tooth and nail against any interference with his body. No autopsy, no posthumous blood or tissue samples. As his next of kin - ”

Phillips raised his eyebrows. “Setting aside the conversation you and I need to have about what the hell you were thinking back in,” he squinted at the marriage certificate, “September of ‘44,” he gave her a sour look, “is this worth your career? Because it very likely might come down to that, Carter, and you still might not win.”

“Sir,” Peggy said, “I know you feel the same way as I do about Operation Paperclip.” A shadow passed over Phillips’ face, and she nodded. “Are you comfortable with someone like Armin Zola getting his hands on the serum in Steve’s blood?” She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t, and she pressed on. “Steve sacrificed his life for the good of the world. This is the very least I can do in return.” 

Phillips narrowed his eyes again, then sighed. “All right. It’s your funeral, Carter.”

“It’s Steve’s funeral,” she said, quietly.

There was a silence after that. Phillips sighed and rubbed at his temples. “Were you ever planning to tell anyone?” he asked, after a while.

Peggy gave him a tiny, sideways smile. “Yes. After the war. You know perfectly well why we kept it a secret during.” She sighed. “But then afterwards, it didn’t seem - ”

“You did a good job of keeping it to yourselves,” conceded Phillips. “I’m not surprised you could carry it off, Carter, but I have to admit, I wouldn’t have guessed Rogers would manage to keep it quiet. I would have bet real money that ridiculous stunt on the car was the first time that boy had been kissed in his life.”

Peggy smiled even as she fought a sudden surge of tears. “I think he was just shocked that I’d done it in front of you. And it really wasn’t the most opportune moment.” She looked down at the desk in front of her. “In retrospect, though, I can’t regret giving in to the impulse.” 

Phillips harrumphed and examined the marriage certificate more closely, giving her a chance to collect herself, she suspected. “Barnes and Dugan were witnesses. Who else knew?"

"A few of the Howling Commandos. Morita, Jones, Dernier. Falsworth."

"Stark?"

She shook her head. “Too much of a security risk.”

Phillips snorted. “Can’t say I blame you.” He raised an eyebrow. “You tell him yet?” 

“Yes,” said Peggy. “He was somewhat shocked, and more than a little hurt that we hadn’t trusted him. But regardless, he’s agreed that we need to do everything we can to stop Zola and men like him from getting their hands on samples of the serum.”

They sat in silence for another long moment, Phillips tapping his pencil on the desk. “All right, Carter,” he said, with another sigh. “But I’m going to hold off torpedoing your career until we know for sure there’s anything there to recover.”

She nodded, letting out a slow breath. “Thank you, sir.”

\-----

 _December 15, 1946  
_ _Peggy Carter and Angie Martinelli’s apartment, New York City_

Peggy got the call late on a Sunday evening. Angie had cheerfully but firmly strongarmed her into an evening of peppermint schnapps and Christmas decorating, and when the telephone rang she was balanced somewhat unsteadily on a stool, adjusting the star on the top of the tree under Angie’s critical directions and trying very hard not to think about what might be happening right now in the north Atlantic.

“It’s for you, English,” said Angie cheerfully, handing her the receiver, and Peggy took a slow breath. It was probably just Thompson with some sort of ridiculous task that couldn’t wait for morning.

She took the receiver. “Hello?”

“Peggy!” It was Howard’s voice, crackly and faint. “Peg, we found him!” There was a burst of static, and then his voice again, even fainter. “Turns out we don’t have to worry so much about Zola getting his hands on him.”

Peggy closed her eyes, trying not to think about the state Steve’s body must be in, if Howard didn’t even think it would be possible to - 

“Peg!” Howard’s voice crackled louder in her ear. “Peg, are you there? Did you hear me? I said, he’s alive! The serum - ”

Peggy had a sudden certainty that she was in the midst of another of her now-nightly nightmares about finding Steve’s body. “I beg your pardon?” she asked, wondering if knowing she was dreaming would make much of a difference.

She could hear the grin in Howard’s voice. “He’s alive, Peg. He’s not awake yet, but we’ve thawed him out and he’s breathing. His heart’s beating. And now that his body temperature is up, his wounds are healing. God, that serum is fantastic.”

Peggy pinched her own arm, hard. It hurt. “Carter, can you hear me?” Howard was calling, as if from far away, and suddenly Angie was next to her, grabbing her elbow and steering her towards the sofa, snagging the phone receiver out of her hand.

“I don’t know what you just told her, Stark, but she looks like she’s about to pass out.” 

She listened for a long moment, then stared at Peggy. “Oh my God, English, you have a lot of explaining to do.”


	2. Chapter 2

Phillips called Peggy at her desk the next morning. “You hear from Stark?”

“Yes,” said Peggy, still feeling rather dazed. “I - ”

“Okay,” said Phillips, gruffly. “They’re bringing him in to Walter Reed here in DC. Highly classified, need to know only. I can get you in to see him, but I’m going to have to wave around that marriage certificate to do it. Should I?”

“Yes,” said Peggy almost before he’d finished speaking, firmly pushing down a number of reservations. “I need to see him. When can I - ”

She could hear the rustle of papers. “They’ll be docking in Reykjavík in a few hours, then flying him in to DC on one of Stark’s jets. Should be here by midnight.” Phillips sighed heavily. “I’ll assign you to his recovery team. Temporary transfer.” He cleared his throat. “You know what people are going to say.”

“I know,” she said. “But I need to see him.”

Phillips sighed again. “You’re making my life difficult, Carter.”

“I’m not fighting anyone on anything,” she said, “yet.”

She could almost hear his eyes roll over the phone. “Right. Your transfer orders should come through sometime this afternoon. Try to stay out of trouble until then.”

\-----

Steve was still unconscious when the plane touched down in DC. Peggy was waiting with Colonel Phillips, fidgeting with the unfamiliar metal band on the fourth finger of her left hand. Although she’d pointed out that a ring, or lack thereof, had absolutely nothing to do with the validity of a marriage, Mr. Jarvis had suggested that it would make a convenient visual shorthand.

“Let me tell you, Carter, the SSR really doesn’t like the idea of married female agents,” said Phillips, watching her turn the ring around and around as they waited just inside the terminal, out of the icy slush that was falling outside. 

Peggy sighed. “The SSR doesn’t particularly like the idea of female agents at all, married or single.” She stared out the window. “There have always been comments about my relationship with Captain Rogers. Even now, I hear a great deal about serving under a Captain and so forth. I’ve learned to ignore them, for the most part.”

“Ever miss the days at Lehigh when you could just punch out those mouthy idiots?” Phillips asked, his lips twitching.

“Yes, often,” she admitted, peering out into the darkness once again to see if she could spot landing lights.

“Well,” said Phillips, “the good news is, you still have a job. Try not to mess it up.”

She sighed, then straightened. That glimmer of lights in the distance were the landing lights of an aeroplane, she was certain of it. “I suppose I should be grateful, but bloody Nora, half my colleagues in the New York office are married men, and nobody cares. Agent Krzeminski had both a wife and a girlfriend, and nobody even blinked an eye. It’s ridiculous. When has my relationship with Steve ever affected my performance as an SSR agent?”

Phillips raised an eyebrow. “The time you fired four rounds at his shield in the middle of Stark’s lab in London comes to mind.”

Peggy flushed slightly. “Aside from that. Once we were properly together.”

Phillips rolled his eyes, but she knew him well enough to spot the twinkle. “How should I know when the hell that was? The way you two made goo goo eyes at each other, it could have been back at Camp Lehigh, for all I know.” He held out his hand to stop her as she opened her mouth. “No, don’t enlighten me. I really don’t want to know.”

The landing lights were getting closer, and lower. They watched them together, in silence, until Phillips cleared his throat. “The two of you were a pain in my ass from day one,” he said, not moving his eyes from the plane. “But damned if you and the Howling Commandos weren’t the most effective team I had. Whatever the hell you were doing with Rogers in your spare time didn’t make you any less of an agent, and that’s what I spent half the afternoon beating into the thick skulls of the SSR brass.” She could hear the half-smile in his voice. “Hang in there, Carter.”

They both turned their heads as the door opened and one of the junior agents peeked in. “Sir, they’ve landed.” 

Phillips squeezed Peggy’s elbow. “Now let’s go see how that boy of yours is doing.”

\-----

Steve was unconscious and pale, his left eye swollen and purple, his right arm in plaster, a bandage wrapped around his left temple. But his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm, and when Peggy leaned over him she could feel his breath warm on her face, hear his heart beating against her cheek.

She rode to the hospital with him, her fingers laced through his, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He’d been alive all this time, hibernating in the Arctic ice while the world moved on without him. While Peggy had moved on without him, or at least tried to, although she’d failed rather miserably. Why hadn’t she - for God’s sake, she’d worked with Erskine, she should have realized that the serum might - 

The nurse riding in the ambulance with them smiled at her encouragingly. “He’s doing fine,” she said. “You’ll have him home with you in no time.”

Peggy closed her eyes and focused on the sound of his breathing.

\-----

 _Dec 18, 1946  
_ _Walter Reed Hospital, Washington DC_

As fate would have it, Peggy was taking a hasty shower when Steve finally woke up, two days later. Summoned by a sympathetic nurse, she rushed back to his room, haphazardly dressed, hair dripping, and had to clutch the door frame for a moment when she saw him sitting up in bed, casually chatting with Howard and another of the nurses.

His bruises were faded by now, his arm still in plaster but nearly healed. The bandage had been removed from his head, the deep cut underneath it almost completely gone. He looked, apart from the hospital gown and cast, almost exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him awake, leaping from the car onto Schmidt’s plane.

Peggy took a step into the room, blinking back the sudden feeling that this couldn’t possibly be real. That, despite everything, she was still dreaming. She bit her lip and felt reassuring pain, and then Steve was smiling at her. “Hey, Peggy.”

She rushed forward. “You’re very late,” she murmured into his shoulder, and he brushed back her sopping wet hair and kissed her temple and then, hidden behind the curtain of her hair, the tip of her ear.

“Turns out I’m lousy at flying a plane.”

Howard laughed out loud at that, then turned to the nurse. “Buy you a coffee?” He was showing uncharacteristic tact, Peggy thought, but then again the nurse was blonde and rather good looking, so perhaps he was just being Howard. 

He paused at the doorway. “The doctor’ll be here any minute to check him out, and there’s no lock on the door, so don’t get too carried away, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers.”

“Shut up, Howard,” said Peggy, still muffled against Steve’s hospital gown.

Howard laughed. “Kiss your husband, pal.” He closed the door gently behind him, and suddenly Peggy and Steve were alone together, for the first time in nearly two years.

Steve slid his good hand up to cup the side of Peggy’s face, tilting it up toward his. He kissed her forehead, then her tear-stained cheeks, and then, finally, her mouth. It wasn’t much more than an extended brush of the lips, but nonetheless they were both a bit breathless when they pulled apart, staring at each other.

Peggy braced herself for the question she knew was coming.

“Peggy?” Steve asked, carefully. “I thought I remembered everything up until the crash. I know I hit my head pretty hard. But - when did we get married?”


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy felt her cheeks flush bright red. “It’s a long story. One that can keep, if you need to rest.”

“I feel fine,” Steve said, carefully. “Just suddenly a bit worried about my memory.” He looked at her, thoughtfully. “Although, I’m starting to think that - ”

“There's nothing wrong with your memory," Peggy admitted, all in a rush. "I forged the wedding certificate, shortly before you were rescued.”

“Okay,” he said, slowly. 

She smiled a little at that. “Okay? That’s it? We’re married now?”

Steve made a face at her. “Okay, I figure you had a good reason and you’re probably about to tell me what it was.” He looked down at their joined hands and touched her ring with his thumb. “I know it’s been a lot longer for you than it feels like it’s been to me. I wondered at first if you- ”

Peggy shook her head. “I borrowed this from a friend.” They watched each other for a long moment. “When Howard located the Valkyrie,” she said, finally, “we all thought he’d be bringing home your body.” Despite her best efforts a tear escaped down her cheek, and Steve closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have tried harder to figure out my coordinates. I just - I really didn’t think there was any point.”

“I know,” said Peggy. “But for God’s sake, you don’t even need a parachute if you jump close enough to the water. You could have wedged the control stick with something, figured out your bloody location, and there might have been a chance - ” her voice broke.

“Yeah, I realize that _now_ ,” said Steve. "But - "

“Well next time,” Peggy said, anger rising suddenly, “don’t assume that you bloody know better than everyone who’s trying to help you. It was arrogant and selfish, and I realize your judgement was clouded because of Barnes, but - the rest of us were still there. We were all - ”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “I - you’re right.” He took in a breath. “I gave up too soon.”

Peggy took several shuddering breaths. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be yelling at you.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yes, you should, Peg. I - ”

There was a knock at the door, which opened to admit Dr. Andrews, the Army physician in charge of Steve’s case. Peggy rather liked him - he'd taken Steve’s particular circumstances in stride without a fuss, and had yet to treat her like an idiot.

“Welcome back, Captain Rogers,” said Andrews cheerfully, stepping forward and shaking Steve’s good hand, as Peggy stepped back out of his way. “Glad you’ve decided to rejoin us. How are you feeling?”

Steve considered, then shrugged. “Fine. Well, my arm’s a bit itchy under the cast.”

Andrews shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like the way you heal, Rogers. At the rate you’re going, I think we’ll be able to get you out of that cast by morning. You were in pretty bad shape when Stark found you, but I’d say you’ll most likely be ready for active duty as soon as that arm's free." He raised his eyebrows. "Might have to get caught up on events of the last year and a half, first.”

Steve glanced sideways at Peggy. “I don't have to be in the hospital for that, though, do I?”

Andrews followed his gaze, and his lips twitched slightly. “If nothing unexpected comes up in the very thorough exam I’m about to give you, I think we can probably get you out of here tomorrow morning once I've examined your arm. Now, first I want to check out those ribs. Can you lift your gown, please?”

Peggy cleared her throat, suddenly feeling rather warm despite the snow falling outside. “I’ll just go dry my hair, and get the summary later on, shall I?”

\-----

It was much later that night when they were finally alone together again, Peggy ensconced in the chair next to Steve’s bed, her shoes on the floor, her feet propped up over the blankets on his lap.

Phillips and Howard had just left for the night, after a fruitless attempt to convince Peggy to go back to the hotel and sleep in a real bed.

“Have you been sleeping on this every night?” Steve asked her, frowning at the hard wooden chair.

“The nurse brought in two others,” she said. “I stretched across them. I’ve slept in far worse places.”

He grinned at her. Peggy had been something of a legend among the Howling Commandos for her uncanny ability to sleep on any surface, under any conditions. “Well, if you want, I can shove over.” He patted the blanket beside him.

“That’s rather forward of you, Captain,” she said, her lips curving upward of their own accord.

“Well, I figured maybe you told everyone we were married so you could sleep in the bed with me without causing a scandal.” He dug his thumb into a tense muscle in her foot.

She suppressed a noise that might have suggested to anyone in the corridor that they were doing something scandalous right at this very moment. “I suppose you’d like to know the real reason.”

“I would,” Steve agreed. 

“All right,” Peggy said, and reclaimed her feet. She pursed her lips. “Have either Howard or Phillips mentioned Operation Paperclip to you?” He shook his head, and she sighed. “You aren’t going to like it. I don’t either.” She stood up and began to pace, sliding into her shoes so as not to tear her stockings. “Things have been rather tense with Russia since the end of the war. The American government decided it would be prudent to secure the intellect of a number of top German scientists, some of whom they know perfectly well were loyal Nazis.” She closed her eyes. “Including Armin Zola.”

Steve sat up straight. “What?”

“I know,” she said. “I fought it. Phillips fought it. Even Howard testified that it was a terrible idea.” She sighed. “Zola is in custody. He’s not running free. But I still believe it’s an enormous mistake to - ”

The fist of Steve’s good hand was clenched nearly as tightly as his teeth were. “How the hell could anyone not believe it’s a mistake? Zola wasn't just some low-ranking scientist coerced into working with the Nazis, he was second in command of Hydra! You know what he did at Krausberg. All the Commandos were there. And Bucky - ”

“I know,” Peggy said again. Barnes’ death was still - she’d had two years to get over it, and a worse loss to bear on top of it, but it still hurt. For Steve, it had hardly been any time at all, and he’d completely missed his own death and resurrection.

Steve took several deep breaths. “I don’t mean to yell at you. It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe you should be yelling at me,” she said with a sigh, sitting down and taking his hand in both of hers. The tiny ghost of a smile passed over his face at her echo of his earlier words, and she frowned. “I wonder if - Steve, you saw more of Krausberg than anyone but Barnes. If you testify, as Captain America...”

Their eyes met in a silent exchange, weighing options, considering probabilities. Steve let out another long breath. “Okay. Let’s try that first.” 

“All right,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And, in the meantime, I’ve been monitoring Zola to the best of my ability.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, my abilities are not nearly as appreciated as they were during the war.” She could see him opening his mouth to ask, and she shook her head. “Later. It's not terribly important right now.”

“Okay,” he said, all at once looking profoundly tired.

Peggy found herself suppressing a yawn as well. Steve ran his thumb gently over the soft pad of her hand. “I'm still a bit confused about how this leads to us being married.”

“Well,” she said, slowly, “I had an enormous fight with Howard last spring, over the last remaining vial of your blood.”

Steve looked even more confused, and Peggy sighed and stared down at her knees. “It’s a long story. The point is, I accused him of using the last piece of you for his own gain, and then I poured your blood off the Brooklyn Bridge and said goodbye.” She looked up at him. “And then when it became clear that Howard was going to recover the Valkyrie, I realized that Howard was the least of my worries.”

“Zola." Steve looked faintly green. "You thought Zola might - ”

“Yes,” said Peggy. “And I believed it was a fight that was worth my career, if it came down to it." The corner of her mouth twisted, and she knew they were both thinking of Krausberg, about Zola and about what would have happened to Peggy's career back then if Steve had been unsuccessful in his rescue attempt. She seemed to have developed a bit of a habit. "It occurred to me,” she said, “that your next of kin would have certain rights regarding decisions about what was to be done with your body.”

Steve was watching her with a hard-to-read expression which shifted abruptly into a fiercely fond look. She closed her eyes. “But if I’d known there was a possibility - ”

“It’s okay,” said Steve. “I - God, Peggy.” They stared at each other for a long moment, and Peggy was almost certain that he was, like her, strongly regretting the inadvisability of starting anything hot and heavy in a hospital room.

She cleared her throat. “But I - I have a confession to make. Once we discovered you were alive, I could have called the whole thing off, with only Howard and Phillips any the wiser. They wouldn't have been terribly pleased that I'd lied to them, but they would have - ”

Steve ran his thumb gently over the inside of her wrist. “So then, why - ”

Peggy sighed. “The only reason I’ve been allowed anywhere near you is because everyone thinks I’m your wife. I just - I had to see you, Steve. I might have been able to punch my way in, I suppose, but they certainly wouldn’t have let me stay.”

The corners of his mouth turned upwards. “Sometimes espionage is the better way. Sounds familiar.” 

She smiled faintly, then set her shoulders. "However, pretending to be married on a mission is one thing, but it’s an entirely different thing in real life. If you want to come clean, I’m certainly willing to accept the consequences of my actions.”

Steve lifted up their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I had a ring picked out, in a shop in London,” he said, slowly. “I was going to - ” he cleared his throat. “I would have liked to be in on the decision, yeah. But I - I’d like to think that if I hadn’t crashed the plane, we’d have been married since the day the war ended, if you’d have had me.”

“Mmm,” she said, neutrally, but she couldn’t stop the corners of her lips from betraying her, tugging upwards into an enormous smile, which he returned. They sat for a time in comfortable silence, holding hands and listening to the ambient noises of the hospital.

Steve frowned. “But, if someone decides to check up on it -”

Peggy raised an eyebrow. “Darling, do you have no confidence in my ability to establish a cover?” She grinned. “The register office I listed on the certificate was utterly destroyed by a V2 rocket early the next morning.”

Steve nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Howard’s butler is surprisingly good at forgery,” Peggy added, “and the Howling Commandos are all prepared to swear they were at the wedding. The whole thing was quite romantic, apparently. We had Dugan and Barnes as witnesses.”

Steve blinked. “Wait, Howard’s _butler_?”

Peggy grinned. “I know, but I trust him absolutely. His tendency toward forgery aside, Mr. Jarvis is a very good man and a very good friend.”

Steve looked suddenly uncertain, and Peggy shot him an exasperated look. “And very much in love with his wife, although really, Steven, I thought we'd - ”

Steve shook his head. “No, it's just - " he set his shoulders and took a slow breath. "You can back out too,” he said. “It’s been a long time for you. If you’ve met anybody, I - I’d understand. I don’t want you to - ”

“If there was anybody else,” said Peggy, exasperated, “I would have come clean to Howard and Phillips the moment it became clear you were alive. Who do you take me for?”

“Peggy - ” he said.

Hospital room be damned, she leaned forward and kissed him, hard. “I’m in love with _you_ , you idiot. I thought you were dead for nearly two years and I still couldn’t seem to - ”

“Okay,” he said, a little strangled. “Just making sure.”

They were both a little out of breath. Peggy glanced back at the door. “I expect we’ll be interrupted at any moment.”

She could hear the rumble of his laugh. “War’s over, and still no privacy.” 

She smiled at him. “Well, perhaps, if you can keep your hands to yourself, I won’t sleep on the chair tonight.”

A nurse did come in then, briskly took Steve's vitals, and then lowered the lights as she left, smiling at the two of them.

“Guess it’s lights-out,” said Steve, a little awkwardly. Peggy smiled, stepped out of her shoes, and before she could think better of it, slid into the bed next to him. It was narrow, and he wrapped his arms around her to keep her from sliding into the metal railing at the side. The plaster covering his right arm dug into her ribs a little, but she didn’t feel particularly inclined to complain.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

The truth was, despite the rumours that had plagued them, this was the most intimate situation they’d ever been in together. Certainly, they’d been pressed together just as closely in combat, but that was an entirely different thing, and despite all the times they’d slept next to each other in haylofts and cellars and under the open sky, their romance had been conducted far more quietly, in glances and stolen kisses and unspoken promises. Steve’s arms, warm around her, were a little uncertain at first, but little by little she could feel the tension ease.

His breath was warm on her ear. “I love you too,” he said, in a rush. “I think I might have forgotten to mention that earlier.”

She smiled. “I would very much like to turn around and kiss you, but I expect that would lead to us both getting in terrible trouble with the nurses.”

She could feel him smiling too, against her hair. “Hey, I’m supposed to be in the bed. You’re the interloper.”

“Well, regardless,” she said, firmly, “we should both try to get some sleep. I expect we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was, indeed, very busy. After Steve’s discharge from the hospital, an Army driver met him and Peggy at a quiet side exit and whisked them off to SSR headquarters, where Phillips shook Steve's hand, handed Peggy a clipboard, and brought them both along to what he warned them would no doubt be one hell of a debriefing.

It was ridiculous, thought Peggy, that hearing about what had gone on in the Valkyrie that day was still so upsetting even when Steve was very much alive and well to tell the story. For God's sake, she'd heard the whole thing already, yesterday when Phillips had come by to welcome Steve back. And yet, listening now, she still had to dig her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from crying.

Very likely, she thought, she just needed sleep, and that thought made her suddenly very aware that Steve had been discharged from the hospital, and that the logical place for him to sleep tonight was with her.

“Agent Carter.” She blinked and realized she’d been staring at Steve for far too long, entirely forgetting to take notes. Phillips shot her an exasperated look.

It was one of the other officers who had spoken, however. “Agent Carter.” He paged through his notes, although Peggy was quite certain it was just for dramatic effect. “Or, should I say Mrs. Rogers?” He cleared his throat. “It seems that you entirely failed to mention your personal connection to Captain Rogers in any of your earlier testimony regarding the incident.”

“Because it wasn’t relevant,” said Peggy. She had, of course, been through a great number of debriefings in the weeks following the crash. Steve's last transmission had been combed over and over for any clues as to the extent of Schmidt's technology, his further plans. She’d faithfully reported everything Steve had relayed about the Valkyrie, about Schmidt being gone, about the lack of coordinates, about Steve’s decision to crash the plane. She’d reported too, that she’d stayed on the line with him as the plane had nosedived, and that they had talked about dancing. At the time, nobody had particularly felt the need to comb over the details of what had been said in those last, personal, few moments. 

Now she was questioned again, cross-examined about her relationship with Steve, about whether there might have been anything else she'd left out of her previous reports of their last conversation, as if Steve wasn’t right here, rendering the point rather moot. It was pointed out that valuable intelligence might have been lost, hidden in a conversation she’d considered personal. 

There was no regulation, she and Steve were reminded, that would have prevented a marriage between an SSR agent and an Army captain. Neither of them had outranked the other, and although she’d acted as his liaison, they’d technically worked for two separate organizations. So why had they kept it a secret? To be fair, she thought fleetingly, at least suspicion seemed equally directed at both of them on this point.

She could see that Steve was nearly at the boiling point, but she exploded first.

“This is precisely why we kept it a secret,” she snapped. “You are all questioning my motivations and my professional integrity. You are assuming that my marriage to Captain Rogers means that I’m suddenly incapable of doing my job as a bloody intelligence officer.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “Nobody has accused Captain Rogers of neglecting to report relevant details of his situation on the Valkyrie simply because I was on the other end of the radio, and nor should they. We worked together for years on the most effective unit in the Allied forces, focused entirely on crushing Hydra. So what on earth makes you think that Captain Rogers sacrificing his life to stop Schmidt’s plans would make me somehow less dedicated to finishing off the job, to making sure his sacrifice wasn’t made in vain?”

There was a long, heavy silence. 

“I should hope,” she said, with dignity, “that both of our records should speak for themselves.”

“That’s all for now,” said the lead officer, finally. 

\-----

Phillips had lunch brought into his office, a large plate of sandwiches. He narrowed his eyes at Peggy as he slid it towards her. “I’d say you could use a stiff drink, Carter, but I’m a little afraid of what you might say to the next poor guy who steps on your toes.”

Steve looked a little stricken, and Peggy suddenly saw the funny side to all of this. “I’m fairly certain it won’t be you, my darling,” she told him, “although I do intend to hold you to our date at the Stork Club at our earliest convenience.”

“I just wish you didn’t have to take the brunt of it.” Steve said, frustrated. “ Maybe we should have - ” he broke off, glancing quickly at Phillips. “If we’d, ah, waited to get married until after the war - ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Peggy said. “Unless we’d planned to hide our marriage for the rest of our lives, something like this would have happened regardless.” She took a sandwich. “I suppose it’s just as well to get it over with.”

Phillips snorted. “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.”

\-----

The afternoon was spent in more meetings, these ones focused on what exactly was to be done with the fact that America now had a rather potent secret weapon, should they decide not to announce Steve’s rescue to the general public.

His enlistment term of the duration of the war plus six months was technically up, but with the increasingly tense state of relations with Russia, the Army was pushing strongly for his reenlistment. The SSR was a civilian organization, although technically still associated with the Army and heavily staffed with veterans, and they very much wanted him as well. Naturally, neither side was particularly willing to compromise.

It was Steve who dug in his heels this time. He’d joined the Army, he said, to fight Hitler, because he didn’t like bullies. It seemed to him that he could do more good now at the SSR, shielding the public from all sorts of threats, with the provision that he was available for loan to the Army if the need arose. He managed, although Peggy could see him working hard at it, to stolidly ignore all implications that he wanted this solely because the SSR was where Peggy worked.

That settled, Steve spent the next while fending off the request that he be loaned out immediately to join the Howling Commandos in Europe. “Look, I might have been cleared for active duty,” he said, “but as far as I’m concerned, two days ago we were still at war with Germany, and Russia was an ally. I might not be an intelligence officer like Agent Carter, but I sure as hell can’t do my job with that big of an information gap.”

Everyone saw the logic in that, eventually, but once it was finally settled that Steve’s immediate task would be to get up to speed with everything he’d missed, yet another argument began.

“Look, Rogers, I know you want to make up for lost time with your wife,” said General Stephenson, who was vying hard for the position of Peggy’s least favourite person in the room. “Who wouldn’t, when she looks like Agent Carter here.” Peggy took in a slow, deliberate breath through her nose and stayed quiet. “But it’s ridiculous to think that you can just wander around in public, living with the woman whose picture you famously kept in your compass, and expect nobody to realize you’ve returned.”

Peggy gritted her teeth and set her shoulders. “General, with all due respect,” she said, evenly, “you’re a soldier, not a spy.” She looked around the table. “Some of you may be aware that, as a security precaution, Captain Rogers was never once photographed in the Captain America suit without the cowl in place. And the whole world knows that Captain America is dead. If someone does notice that my husband's chin bears a striking resemblance to Captain America’s, they will almost certainly write it off as a coincidence.”

“She’s right,” said one of the other officers, rather unexpectedly. “There’s a fellow who lives downstairs from me who’s the spitting image of Roosevelt. Never once heard anyone accuse the man of actually being him, back from the dead.” 

Stephenson scowled. “I presume he isn’t living with Roosevelt’s wife.”

Peggy sighed. “Nobody has any idea that Captain America was married. And yes, my picture did appear in his compass in a newsreel, once, some years ago. But most people don’t have that sort of memory for faces. I’ve had the compass discussed in my presence, more than once, and nobody has ever asked me if the picture in it might have been me. My neighbors all think I work for the bloody telephone company, for heaven’s sake.”

“Look,” said Phillips, finally. “Rogers has to go outside sometime, and of all the people in this room, Carter’s the most qualified to teach him to maintain a cover. She’s a damned good spy.”

And Peggy let out a breath, feeling for the first time today that maybe things were going to be all right.

\-----

When they were finally allowed to call it a day, Howard offered to put them up in his DC penthouse for the night. “Plenty of rooms. Neighbours much farther away than at that hotel Peggy still hasn’t slept at.”

“Thank you, Howard,” Peggy said, “but we’ll be fine at the hotel.” She wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the evening, but she was certain that both she and Steve would prefer a little privacy, and Howard didn’t particularly know the meaning of the word.

Howard grinned at them good-naturedly. “Fine. I’ll lend you Jarvis to drive you there, at least - I’m going to be here a bit longer, so he can swing by and get me on the way home.”

This, Peggy accepted, and Jarvis brought the car up to the entrance a few minutes later, greeting Peggy with a warm handclasp and Steve with a firm handshake. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” called Howard, cheerfully, as the car pulled away, and Jarvis sighed almost imperceptibly.

“It’s all right Mr Jarvis,” said Peggy. “Steve is quite familiar with Howard.”

Jarvis shot her a tiny grin in the rear view mirror, and she returned it. It felt a little odd to be sitting in the back seat rather than the front as he drove, and entirely surreal to have Steve sitting, warm and alive, beside her, holding her hand. 

Jarvis cleared his throat. “Captain Rogers, it is my great pleasure to welcome you home. I’ve certainly heard a great deal about you from Mr. Stark and Miss Carter, and I must say, although we’re all rather lucky to have you back, I’m utterly delighted on Miss Carter’s behalf particularly.” 

“Thank you,” said Steve. “I - haven’t had time to get caught up on much of what I’ve missed, but I do know that Peggy has excellent judgement in friends. It’s nice to meet you.” The corners of his mouth turned upwards a little. “Although, I hear we have you to thank for the fact that at least three people called her ‘Mrs. Rogers’ today.”

“Oh dear,” said Jarvis, and Peggy rolled her eyes at both of them.

“It’s not the Rogers part I object to, particularly," she said, "although I think Steve might have to go by Mr. Carter in public if we’re to have any hope of keeping his return quiet. It’s just that, for some reason, it seems rather difficult for people to think of me as both an agent and as Captain America’s wife.”

“Those people,” said Jarvis, sincerely, “are utter fools.” His lips turned up slightly. “Although, technically, Miss Carter, you do realize that you aren’t actually Captain America’s - ”

“Be that as it may,” said Peggy, “I don’t believe we plan to stand on technicality in this matter.” She felt her cheeks heat up a little at Jarvis’s scrutiny in the rear view mirror.

“Then, may I offer my sincere congratulations,” he said, and smiled at both of them.

“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis,” said Peggy, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“And Captain Rogers,” said Jarvis, after a moment. “I have no doubt that you are a good man, and I am well aware that Miss Carter is entirely capable of taking care of herself, but you should be aware that she has rather devoted friends who care deeply for her happiness.”

Peggy blinked. “Mr. Jarvis, are you threatening Captain America on my behalf?”

“I am merely,” said Jarvis, with dignity, “warning him not to incur the wrath of Miss Martinelli.”


	5. Chapter 5

Peggy walked into the hotel room and immediately flopped face-first onto the bed, as Steve shut and locked the door behind them. “Sometimes I miss being able to shoot people,” she said, muffled against the comforter.

She felt the bed dip beside her as Steve sat down, resting his large, warm palm over her shoulder blades and squeezing for a second before leaning down and taking off her shoes for her. “Would punching something help?”

She huffed out a laugh and rolled over onto her back. “Probably. But I expect the hotel might have some objection.” He smiled at her, brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

“Or," he said, slowly.

Peggy raised her eyebrows. "Or?"

He brushed his thumb gently along her jawline, from her ear to her chin, and she shivered. “Well, there has to be _some_ benefit to being Captain America’s wife," he said. Their eyes met, and suddenly both of them were breathing rather quickly.

Peggy reached up and pulled him down beside her on the bed. "I rather like being your wife,” she admitted. “So long as nobody asks me to make coffee."

Steve snorted. "I've had your coffee. The best thing I can say about it was that it was almost always better than Falsworth's." 

"It was considerably better than your tea," Peggy retorted, rolling over to face him, their faces inches apart. All at once she couldn’t catch her breath. “Darling, if you don’t kiss me soon - ”

He leaned even closer. “You’ll explode?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and then his mouth was on hers and this time there was no hospital, no lurking enemy troops, no Howling Commandos, no worry that someone would decide to visit the supply closet for paper clips at just the wrong moment and - she gasped.

Steve smiled and kissed the hinge of her jaw. “This okay?” His hand had already wandered far up her skirt, well beyond anywhere he’d dared to venture in stolen moments during the war. She nodded, suddenly so wholly focused on what he might do next that she wasn’t certain she remembered how to speak. The frustration of the day, the emotional wringer she’d been through in recent weeks, her utter exhaustion, and the cautiously delirious joy of having Steve truly, improbably, alive, crashed over her like a wave, and, oh, it was ridiculous, but she was already so nearly there, so close that it would have been rather embarrassing if she could have brought herself to care in the slightest. 

Steve’s hand crept steadily higher as Peggy wriggled impatiently, and she nearly cried with relief when his fingers finally slipped under the elastic of her knickers. And then, just as he finally, finally got to the spot where she’d been longing for him the most, she did start to cry, enormous, violent sobs. He froze. “No, don’t - ” she gasped. “Don’t you dare stop. I - ah - oh, Steve!” she wailed, as he tentatively shifted his fingers and she promptly fell apart so spectacularly and thoroughly that for a moment she wasn’t entirely certain of who she was.

“Peggy?” Steve asked cautiously, wrapping one arm and then, after a moment, the other tightly around her as she sobbed into his shoulder.

“It isn’t you,” she managed. “You were wonderful.”

He held her until her sobs finally dissolved into hiccoughs, his shirt sopping wet against her cheek. “You okay?”

Peggy sniffed against his shirt. “Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t - I’m quite sure this wasn’t how you’d pictured our first time in bed together.”

He pulled back a little, turned her chin so he could see her face, and smiled at her. “It’s not our first time in bed together. That was last night.”

Peggy mopped at her eyes, still sniffling a little. “You know perfectly well what I meant.”

“I love you, Margaret Elizabeth Carter,” Steve said, reaching into his pocket and handing her his handkerchief. “And I know we didn’t actually vow to support each other for better or for worse, but I sure as hell would have if I’d had the chance. Peg, if you can’t break down around me, then what the hell am I going to do the next time I need to break down around you?”

She blew her nose, then leaned over and set the handkerchief on the bedside table. “I don’t know, Rogers, last time you still went and crashed a bloody aeroplane.”

“That was definitely a mistake,” he said, firmly, and suddenly they were both grinning at each other. 

“I’m all right,” she said. “I just - ”

“I know,” he said, and kissed her forehead. 

She moved up to kiss his lips, gently but not without heat, tugging his shirt out of his waistband so that she could slide her hands inside. Steve made a tiny, hungry noise, low in his throat, as she traced the lines of muscle on his abdomen. “Shall we try again?” she asked.

Despite his obvious arousal, Steve looked uncertain for a moment. “It - was it really okay?” he asked. Peggy supposed it was a fair question for a man whose first attempt at bringing a girl off had resulted in near hysteria.

She pushed him onto his back and straddled him, her hands flat on his chest, and they both caught their breaths as their hips made contact. “It was fantastic,” she said, firmly, if a little breathlessly. “I’ve never - Crikey O’Reilly, Steve, I actually forgot my own name for a moment there.” 

He laughed, and pulled her down to kiss her. 

This time she wasn't nearly so frantic, and he was far more patient than she had been. They undressed each other bit by bit, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses over each new bit of skin, learning each other’s contours with their fingertips, sighing into each other’s mouths and against each other’s skin. His hands left warm, effervescent trails across her belly, over her breasts, along her thighs. She ran her tongue over his skin, tasting his nipples, his ridiculously perfect chest, the rock-hard muscles of his abdomen.

They were down to a pair of knickers each when she trailed her tongue precariously close to an elastic leg band and he finally broke. “Peggy,” he gasped, “please - I can’t - ”

She smiled against his thigh. “All right.” She peeled off his underwear and took him in her mouth, eliciting a noise that sent such a delicious thrill through her that she nearly fell apart again right then and there. As his breath hitched and he stiffened, she sat up abruptly, leaving him wide-eyed and looking a little betrayed.

“Peggy!”

“I need you inside me,” she breathed, and he sat up too, nodded, and carefully helped her out of her own underwear. She took him in her hand and straddled him, guiding him into place, and then he was carefully sliding inside her, her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his skin. He pushed carefully into her, filling her up, stretching her in the best possible way until he was flush against her. “Oh,” she breathed, and he huffed out a sudden laugh.

“Right back at you, Carter,” he said quietly, and rolled them over, moving inside her, finding a rhythm. The tension within her coiled, tighter, tighter, and then broke, a slow wave this time, cresting over her for a perfect eternity until she finally shuddered and surfaced in a hundred tiny aftershocks. She opened her eyes just in time to watch Steve’s face as he hurtled over the edge himself and collapsed on top of her, panting. 

“These are happy tears,” he said, once they’d caught their breaths, and she ran her finger over his wet cheeks and laughed.

“I know they say you should begin as you mean to go on, but I do hope our lovemaking won’t end in tears every time.”

Steve smiled at her. “It won’t.”

She tugged the comforter and top sheet out from under them both so that they could slip underneath, away from the December chill, and snuggled up against him. He slipped his arm around her, pulling her closer to his side. “It worked, you know,” she said, after a moment.

He kissed the top of her head. “What worked?”

Peggy smiled against his shoulder. “I’ve completely lost the urge to punch things. For the moment. I am rather hungry, though.” She stretched. “How are you feeling? Are you very tired?”

Steve propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at her. “No, although I’m not sure if you’re propositioning me or inviting me out to dinner.”

“Well,” she said, kissing his cheek, “we do need to eat. And it’s struck me that, as we seem to be going about things completely backwards, it’s high time we finally had that dance.”

\-----

“You know,” Steve said, thoughtfully, squeezing Peggy's shoulders as they walked back into the hotel room together, much later that evening. Peggy was slightly tipsy on champagne, and both of them were glowing, a little drunk on dancing and on each other. “It occurred to me that we don’t actually have to pretend to be married forever.”

Peggy blinked. “What?”

Steve grinned and knelt at her feet, sliding the metal band off her left hand and holding it up to her. “Peggy Carter, will you marry me?”

She stared at him. “I don’t think we - wouldn’t that rather give things away?”

“We had one secret wedding,” he said. “We can do it again. Come on, Peggy, you’re the best spy in the SSR.”

Her bewildered look gave way to a slow smile, as she accepted the ring and slid it back onto her finger. “Well, what do you know,” she said, tugging him up to kiss him. “You do know how to talk to women after all.”


End file.
